Beethoven: Paul Lewis (piano). Wigmore Hall, 9.6. 2007 (CC)

Back in January, Paul Lewis impressed with a programme of Beethoven Sonatas that included the Moonlight‘ and the E flat, Op. 7. It was a highly impressive occasion, but one that still asked questions. Work in progress, certainly, but certainly far enough progressed to merit an outing at a major venue.

On this occasion, Lewis played the last three Sonatas in order, a programme he was to repeat on June 10^th. Despite the short length of the concert, this surely must be one of the most interpretatively challenging of recitals a pianist can present. The hall was completely stuffed (I am sure this was the case the next night, also), and audience participation was significantly less than one has become accustomed to at this venue. In addition, microphones were present (broadcast date is Radio 3 on June 15^th).

The first half juxtaposed moments of magic with small but noticeable miscalculations. Significantly, Lewis did not wait at all before the  beginning of Op. 109. A risk, certainly, but one that paid off. The tone was gorgeous and audience attention was all but immediate. Projection was finely judged. Most interesting were the passages of near impressionism, although I remain to be convinced that these would remain as intriguing on repeated listening. If the big contrasts of the Prestissimo seemed well judged, a touch of literalism crept into the final variations. There were so many things to admire: left-hand semiquavers delivered with model clarity; linear workings carved out with perfect lucidity; perfectly toned staccati. Yet structurally all was not well. The organic nature of the movement was not honoured fully, so what one heard was a succession of (very beautifully presented) events.

There was some strain apparent in Op. 110. Occasionally key presses were slightly splattered, and there was a suspicion of overpedalling and just a touch of awkwardness in the second movement (Allegro molto). Balancing this was the truly magical entrance of the Adagio and a heavenly return to the Fugue. It is worth speculating if the vast mountain of Op. 111 was preying on Lewis' mind, especially when one considers the new standard Lewis found in the second half of the concert.

The great C minor Sonata that ends Beethoven's cycle is a real Everest. If the Hammerklavier is a peak in its own right, Op. 111 requires a similar level of transcendent concentration and knowing to succeed. And succeed Lewis did. Tempi were well chosen (especially the Allegro con brio of the first movememnt, fast but with no sense of rushing). Interestingly, Lewis let in more sunlight than one might expect into the earlier stages of the finale before submerging the listener in Beethoven's late period genius. The huge registral spaces Beethoven uses sounded remarkably contemporary in effect, and I have not heard before an extended trill (towards the close) that held so much energy and yet was so even.

The question remains that, with a major Beethoven cycle under his belt, and issued by a major record label, will Lewis revisit this repertoire as a cycle later, and will he once more commit it to disc? One hopes so. Already the Harmonia Mundi series has given much joy in a world where major recording projects such as this are no longer the norm.

 

Colin Clarke